Years of Change
by SleeplessDays
Summary: Two years after the end of the Selection, Maxon and his wife are hosting his birthday party. Anybody who is anybody is invited, including the Selected. How will the king and queen fare through this week-long party with his previous lovers and her previous competition?
1. The Birthday Party of the Decade

_A/N_

 ** _Please read the bolded_** _script._

 _The first few chapters were written literal years ago, back when I first read the Selection. Afterward, I became obsessed with Gone with the Wind. GWTW occupied most of my writing ability then, so I neglected this for a long time. It still does influence me a lot. **Anyway, the purpose of this note is to tell all new readers that not all of my chapters are this short, just the first two. This one is about 1,200 words. My third chapter is about 4,300 words long. Please keep all this in mind and read a little further before you decide my story is absolute trash**. _

* * *

What an interesting way to spend his Sunday. Maxon examined the party his wife had put together. He knew she had been working on these festivities for a couple months. She had planned an entire week of activities and parties for Maxon and his guests. The Great Room had been decorated for the first ball that was taking place, starting off Maxon's birthday week with his actual birthday. There would be smaller gatherings and events throughout the week, and it would end with another formal ball. Regal red drapes decorated the walls, and the room seemed to glitter with all of the gold accents. There was a large buffet of food, none of which were his favorites. Neither was the color red. Maxon couldn't help but be disappointed in the whole thing. These were his wife's favorite foods and red was neither of their favorites. The stiff and formal feel of the gathering was not what Maxon was hoping for either.

"Your royal husbandness," America called out, "come join our conversation." Maxon shook off his slight sadness and put on a small smile before he walked over to the large group of women, each one a daughter of Illea.

"Hello, my dear." he greeted, kissing Kriss' cheek.

"Happy birthday, Maxon." She replied cheerily.

"Hello, ladies. I trust you are all enjoying the lovely party my wife Kriss has put together."

America did her best to hide the hurt that threatened to overtake the control she had on her emotions. "Yes, and the girls and I were wondering something. Obviously, this is a question for both of you," she said before Natalie chimed in.

"When are you two going to give us baby royals to play with?" Natalie excitedly asked.

"Yes, we want more excuses to come over and more cute babies to dote on," Celeste added.

Maxon glanced at Kriss and took in her expression. She was bashfully looking at the floor, no doubt wondering the same thing. When Maxon returned his gaze to the group of women in front of him, he noticed the sadness lurking behind a striking pair of icy eyes. He swallowed and spoke, "We have been trying for a while, so hopefully soon."

The Selected were satisfied and split up, moving away from the stage in the Great Room to go enjoy the rest of their party. America moved to stand in a corner all alone, no longer feeling like partying. She wasn't alone for long, though. Plenty of suitors were interested in her and asked her to dance. After a while of half-heartedly conversing with many young men, America returned to her previous spot. She was debating leaving, longing for Maxon, and heartbroken he was married to another woman. It seemed the world was against her, however, as Celeste, Maxon, and Kriss joined America in her lonely corner.

"America, how are you enjoying the party?" Kriss called out whilst approaching her.

"You seem very popular among the men." Celeste winked.

Chuckling, America replied, "Yes, well, none of them are quite my type."

"I see, you are into the princely type," Maxon said teasingly. However, deep down, he ached for it to be true.

America felt a twinge of hurt, and replied wittily, "Actually, I find handsome guards much more attractive."

He ignored his wailing heart and cracking resolve at her comment, letting out a small laugh while wrapping his arm around Kriss' waist. "Well, Kriss and I better make our rounds before the night ends. You really should look into a husband."

America nodded once at them and turned to Celeste. "Hey, America. How are you really feeling?" Celeste asked in a hushed tone as the royal couple made their way to the dance floor.

"Like someone is repetitively stabbing me in the chest." she sighed. "I was considering returning to my room. I'm not really feeling this whole party thing." America gestured around the room.

Celeste solemnly nodded. "I understand. I hope the whole week isn't this terrible for you."

America offered her a weak smile. "It wasn't as bad as that one time you brought me shopping. You didn't even let me rest for half a second."

Celeste chuckled. "I am quite the shopper. I'll walk you to your room. Do you want me to stay or just walk you there?"

"I'd really like a little alone time." America confided.

"Of course, sweetheart. Let's go."

After Celeste shut the door, America let her legs carry her out to the balcony. She remembered this room. She loved the view of the gardens from her balcony, but it was cruel for Maxon to put her in this room full of memories.

This was where they had many of their private moments. This was where they had their first kiss, where Maxon gave her the NewAsian bracelet, where they solved their problems, where May stayed here the night before the Halloween party and Marlee's caning, where America almost left, where Maxon stood up against his father just so she could go see her dead one, where they had their most passionate encounter, where she told Maxon that she loved him, where he told her he loved her too, where he proposed, where he called her a liar and told her to leave his home forever.

America hadn't cried in a year over Maxon. However, this room brought back too many painful memories. Memories that seemed so distant, even though it had only been two years.

America just sat down and began to cry.

* * *

Maxon had taken a break from the party and walked around the garden. The chatter was giving him a pounding headache, and the fresh air seemed to make it better. As he strolled through the garden, he came across something he had almost forgotten about. He gazed at the bench, hesitant to get to close to it. The small and seemingly inconsequential bench was their place. It would always belong to her.

Distant cries interrupted his thoughts, and he looked around for the source. He couldn't see anyone, but for some reason, these wails nagged at him. Maxon wanted to find their owner, if only to provide them a little comfort, but knew he had to get back to the party soon to avoid alerting anyone.

When back inside, Maxon found it near impossible to restore his cheery disposition and walked absently around the room. The sobs continued to echo in his head and were driving him mad.

"Maxon, dear?" Kriss asked.

"Hm? Oh, hello my dear. How is the party going?"

"Well, it went well. Everyone returned to their rooms, though. It is already eleven at night, and you've just been walking around the room. I thought it was best that we both head off to bed now."

"Of course."

When Maxon made it inside his room, he began to pace again. He kept recalling those cries, trying to piece together why they bothered him so. That is until he faced his bed and noticed a scantily clad Kriss sitting in front of him. He knew exactly what she wanted.

"Hello, my dearest king." Kriss purred, trying her best to direct this night where she wanted it to go.

"Kriss, I don't feel well. Maybe tomorrow?"

"But Maxon," she started to pout a little, "It's your birthday. It's also our duty to produce some adorable heirs, so we better step to it."

He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Alright. You are right, my dear."

"Perfect."


	2. To the Beach!

America walked to palace halls aimlessly, lost in thought. In her heartbroken stupor, she didn't notice the equally distracted man coming her way until they collided. America let out a small shriek when she hit the ground, and looked around wildly for the attacker. When she saw the man sitting beside her with his dark hair falling in his eyes, she sighed and relaxed. It was just one of the people she had talked with the night before, no one dangerous. Hopefully.

"I'm sorry, Lady America. Here, let me help you up," he said as he dusted his black and white suit off as well.

"It's fine, I should have been paying some more attention. It's these heels, I tell you. They're out to get me."

"Yes, my sky-high stilettos are equally murderous, but the things we do for beauty." They both chuckled as America accepted his outstretched hand. "It's my fault as well. I'm glad I ran into you, though. You seemed so down last night, and your smile is truly dazzling."

For some strange reason, this comment made America blush as her smile grew a little more.

Shortly after, however, her grief returned. Maxon had always loved her smile. She did her best to shake her hurt off, but her smile had clearly faded.

The suitor tried to change the subject when he noticed the shadow on her face. "Would you like to come with me?" He leaned closer and whispered, "I might have just been attempting to escape. This palace is nice, but this whole event is rather boring. I was going to the beach."

As he leaned in, America got a much better look at his face. He was handsome, to be sure. He had pushed his chocolate-brown hair aside and revealed charcoal eyes. Despite his killer good looks, he seemed kind enough. Something inside her told her to follow this mysterious man, and the beach did sound lovely. "It sounds tempting, but I'm afraid I don't even know your name."

"It's Connor Wilkes." 

"I would love to accompany you, Sir Wilkes." 

"I look forward to it, Lady America. Will you meet me back down here in an hour?" 

"Sure." She smiled. This was her first date since the Selection, and she was actually looking forward to it. The two parted ways and America called the maid that had been assigned to her.

She was a kind woman, about America's age, with a rather plain face and short blond hair. "You called, miss?"

"Yes, I'm going to the beach later today, and I need your help packing. I've never been to a beach, and I'm absolutely clueless." 

"Of course, my lady. Is King Maxon aware that you are leaving the grounds? For security measures, he must approve your trip."

America waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about King Maxon, he already knows. In fact, he suggested it." It wasn't completely true, but Maxon had encouraged her dating other men. So, in a way, he had.

"Alright," the maid continued while packing, "will you and your date be back well before the picnic in the garden with the other Elite? Or should I send you with a casual dress to change into there?"

"You should pack the dress, I might not be back early enough to change." A second later, the maid placed the bag on the bed. "Thank you. What was your name?"

"Jenny, my lady."

"You may take your leave, Jenny. Thank you again." 

Jenny promptly left the room and America glanced at the clock. It was about time for her to head down, so she quickly changed into her swimsuit and put a cover-up over it before she grabbed her bag and went to meet Connor.

* * *

"Shhh!"

America giggled lightly and then pressed her lips together and motioned that she threw away the key. Connor shook his head smiling before peeking out the window again.

"All clear, hurry." 

The two crept out of the palace and off the grounds. If they were discovered, it was all too likely that someone would report it to the king, who would make sure to ruin all of their fun. When they had safely reached the nearby town, where Connor had a close friend, they borrowed a car and drove about half an hour to the nearby beach.

"So, America. Have you ever come by this beach before?" Connor led her to the water's edge as they talked. 

"I never got the chance to go to any beach. This is all new for me." 

"Oh it is?" grinned Connor. America shot him a suspicious glance for his tone. To her surprise, he splashed her with the freezing ocean water. America let out a small shriek and quickly retaliated with more splashing.

Connor moved to grab her, so America dove into the water and swam a good distance away. When she looked back, she couldn't help laughing. Connor was trying to wade towards her, but the water held him back and made him comically slow.

"Having trouble keeping up?" She taunted him for a while before submerging again.

America swam in circles beneath the surface, trying to swim as "sneakily" as possible.

When Connor finally lost sight of her, though it was only a moment, she rose out of the water. America jumped on Connor from behind and laughed loudly in his ear as he was soaked. He struggled to stay standing but managed to regain his footing.

When he turned his head to see her, she grinned cheekily at his pouty expression. He wrinkled his nose in response, causing America to giggle. America let Connor go and moved to be in front of him. Her eyes sparkled in victory as he took in the fact that he was dripping wet.

"You got me all wet." Connor twisted his mouth into a mock frown and crossed his arms petulantly.

"I didn't even get to take off my dress before getting pulled in by you, so I think we're even." America's eyes still sparkled in amusement at his state. Her eyes were a stunning icy blue that contrasted beautifully with her hair. They were eyes that gave away her every emotion and beckoned Connor to take a closer look. Eyes that shone with happiness. Knowing that he was the one who made her so happy was enough for Connor to let her win-just this once.

"I surrender, my lady. Let's return to shore."

"It'll be cold when we get back…"

The pair fell silent as the atmosphere grew thick with heat.

There was something transfixing about the tanned man across from her. Maybe it was his eyes, swirling with mystery. Maybe it was the electricity between them. It didn't really matter. She could not tear her eyes from his, and neither could he. Everything about her pulled him back in.

Connor hummed a small response and snaked an arm around her waist. She could hardly think. He was intoxicating. It was impossible for her to find any words. Not that she wanted to say anything. She leaned into him and tilted her head. His lips were only an inch from hers when the spell broke.

"Yeah. We should dry off." 

They both felt the chill as they pulled away and slowly headed back to shore.

The two spent hours on the beach, just playing. They were also losing track of time. When Connor mentioned it was approaching seven, America almost had a heart attack.

"I need to be back at the palace for the picnic with King Maxon and the former Elite," she cried. America quickly gathered their things and dashed to the parking lot. Come on, Connor!"


	3. A Disastrous Dinner

For the first half an hour, Maxon didn't let himself worry too much about America's absence. Some of the other girls had been a few minutes late, and she could just be wrapped up flirting with a guard and leading a bunch of men on.

As time passed, however, his concern grew exponentially. America had always been fairly punctual, so this was unusual. The others had started to express their worry, especially Celeste.

"Are you sure none of you know where America is? You sure she isn't locked in the dungeon?" Celeste asked an hour after the picnic had started.

"No, we would have been alerted, and I would have let all of you know," Kriss replied.

"She's probably with the guards, having the time of her life." Maxon's remark earned him an irritated glance from Kriss and a deadly glare from Celeste.

"Is she sick?" Elise asked to try and ease the tension that had suddenly arisen.

"But wouldn't a maid have sent word?" Celeste pointed out. "What if she's been kidnapped or hurt?" Celeste turned on Maxon, fire blazing in her eyes. "I will never forgive you if you cause my best friend any more pain, Maxon Calix Schreave," she threatened.

"Calm down, I'm sure she's fine." Maxon tried to reassure the women, but his doubt was steadily growing.

The others looked unconvinced but changed the subject to something less worrisome. Maxon quietly asked a nearby guard to start searching outside the palace, and after an hour, nothing had turned up yet. Maxon felt a deep aching pain in his chest and was struggling to breathe. His fears were starting to consume his thoughts. Losing America was not an option. Even if she wasn't his, she needed to be alive. What was a world without his America?

Conversation ceased when a man carrying a woman with fiery red hair burst through the door. Her musical laugh drew everyone's attention. "Connor, Put me down!" she shouted. "You making a scene doesn't help the fact that I'm late. In fact, it makes it worse," she scolded. Connor was holding her bridal style, and tossed her lightly up, as if he were dropping her on the grass. America shrieked and clutched his neck while he chuckled.

"What was that about letting you down?"

"I said put me down, not drop me." she defended as he released her, smirking. "Thank you for the lovely date, no thank you for picking me up and then almost dropping me." America stuck her tongue out at him before smiling and kissing his cheek.

The very affectionate scene in front of Maxon both soothed the crushing sensation in his chest and made it much, much worse. His beautiful America was safe, but here she was, and very clearly being affectionate with another man. This picnic honestly couldn't get too much worse.

* * *

"So, I see you've found someone of interest, America." Celeste pointed out after Connor left and America had settled down. "Tell us everything," she demanded.

America cast a worried glance towards Maxon, but Celeste waved away her concern. "Well, his name is Connor Wilkes," America began, "and I met him last night at the ball. He's an actor. I mean, there's not much for me to tell you. When I bumped into him earlier today, he invited me out, and I accepted. We spent some time at the beach, it was nothing too extravagant. We happened to lose track of time, so I'm sorry if I worried you all."

Celeste shrugged. "We were worried," she playfully glared at America, "but it's fine. You're here now, and I want to know all about the funny and handsome Connor," she exclaimed. "And he's a two," Celeste added while shimmying her shoulders. America chuckled and rolled her eyes.

The rest of the Elite were very engaged as well, wanting to know more of America's new lover. While Maxon was trying to play it off as if he was happy, this whole conversation struck a bitter cord in his heart.

"Tell us more about the date!" Kriss requested. "What was it like? What did you two do together? How was your first time at the beach? How hot is he?" Kriss was eager to hear all about Connor.

The last two questions his wife asked especially drew his attention. He always thought he would be the first one to bring America to the beach. He was thinking of going there with her on their honeymoon or with the family they might have. And why was Kriss asking how hot this guy was? She didn't know him at all. Besides, she was married to Maxon. He knew that this was something girls gossiped about all the time, but it still bothered him.

After a beat of hesitation and embarrassment, America shook it off and tried to appease her audience. "The whole thing was simply magical. I had never been to the beach before, and this was a great first impression. We had just arrived and set our stuff down when he lead me to the water and started a vicious splashing battle." The girls all giggled. "We made sand castles, and it was so much fun." America continued. "His was closer to a mountain of sand, but he tried." America smiled. "Oh, and when we went swimming!"

"I bet he has the best abs!" Tiny squealed.

"Well, he had worn a shirt and swim trunks to the beach, so I guess I assumed he would keep it on while we swam. It was like a scene in a movie! He tossed the shirt to the side, and those sparkling abs! Oh my gosh, he is so strong. And that jawline! Oh, he is just so unbelievably dreamy." America was uncharacteristically gushing about this strange man. She had never been like this before, but something about this Connor Wilkes brought out the little school girl in her.

The other girls egged her on, asking her excited questions about the endeavor, like if his muscles rippled mesmerizingly and if his abs sparkled in the water. The whole thing seemed ridiculous to Maxon and honestly irritated him. To be fair, it really was stupid.

"Alright, tell us about the rest of the date." Elise prompted.

"After swimming, he brought me ice cream, he's so sweet. And hilarious too! I almost dropped the cone because I was laughing so hard." America continued describing the date in detail, making all the girls swoon and Maxon want to throw up.

"Oh, and the sunset. It was gorgeous, and I have no words for it. We were watching it while standing in the water and just taking in everything around us. When the sun was almost gone, he suddenly turned to me and," America sighed dreamily, "he looked at me, slowly leaning in, a hand on my waist and a hand holding my head. And he kissed me as the sun sank behind the horizon, his tongue caressing mine in the most loving and romantic way. I'm absolutely falling for him. Oh, those abs." She let out a big sigh as the rest of the girls started talking excitedly and squealing.

"You lucky bitch." Celeste teased. "He's so romantic. You keep this one around for a while." America chuckled.

She certainly was the lucky one in Maxon's eyes. She got another shot at true love while he was stuck with the second choice that he had picked in a fit of rage.

"Well ladies, this has been quite the picnic. I will let you all return to your rooms since it is already late. My dear, why don't you go ahead and finish that report?" Maxon kissed his wife's head and signaled for the staff to get the picnic cleaned up. Elise and Natalie returned to their rooms while Kriss went to attend to her duties. Celeste bid America farewell and then also headed for bed.

America turned to head back to the gardens for a little when someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a nearby room. When she turned around, she saw a brooding Maxon.

"Your Majesty," she greeted formally, curtsying. "What do you need?"

Maxon chuckled humorlessly. "I think you already know that. What the hell were you doing off the palace grounds with that stranger? I never gave you permission." He turned an accusing eye towards her.

"I see you weren't paying attention during the picnic since I already told you everything. And he's not a complete stranger, I've gotten to know him fairly well over our date."

"I heard everything at that stupid picnic. And yes, he's still a stranger. You're insane, America. I'm convinced you have a death wish."

"Are you done, Dad?"

Maxon scoffed at her, but America interrupted what he was going to say. "Who the hell are you to judge me? Who are you to control my every movement? You have no right to use me, throw me out, and then get all up in my business. You never cared before, so now shouldn't be a problem either.

"You already married Kriss and already trying to have kids, why don't I get to find my happily ever after? I thought I knew the real you, a kind and selfless prince who would do anything for his country, which I am a part of. I guess not since there has been no progression to caste elimination and here you are trying to ban me from the possibility of love."

"You don't know anything. I'm convinced you're trying to get yourself kidnapped. You couldn't be trusted with a book, you think you can be trusted to find an appropriate husband?"

A fire flared in America's eyes. Instead of fighting back again, she opened the door and stepped out. "I'll see you tomorrow, your majesty." she sneered before walking away.

* * *

It took many, many embarrassing comments to Celeste, the only poor soul Maxon was able to rant to, while pacing for her to snap and educate his sorry ass on what had actually happened at the picnic.

"You honestly think America gushed like a twelve year old desperate for attention about her relationship with someone she had just met, all while sitting with her ex? Try again, Maxon. We all know that she's a private person. She avoided the details like the plague, and you clearly weren't listening in the least. America is the last person of the Selected that would divulge the details of a kiss and talk about sparkling abs. Seriously, Maxon. The fact you thought any of us would say that is demeaning and absolute stupidity. It's time you face it, Maxon. You're the insane, jealous, ex-boyfriend who's in love with the amazing protagonist. I wonder if it sounds familiar. It's almost like your last name could be Leger." She said all of this with the most assured and factual tone he'd ever heard.

He snapped his head back to Celeste. "You know about that?"

Celeste just rolled her eyes and sauntered over to the table with the tea tray. "America and I are friends, remember? She needed a shoulder to cry on after the Selection, and Marlee was unavailable." She examined the several pastries before picking her favorite and sitting back on the sofa, careful not to drop crumbs outside the domain of her plate.

"Well, if I'm so incorrect, can you tell me what did happen?"

She let out a heavy sigh and let her head fall back. "She literally only told us that they had gone to the beach together. They did the normal stuff, and she didn't give details to the group. You're honestly hopeless."

Maxon ignored the last bit and slumped into his chair.

Celeste spoke up again, shifting her gaze to rest on the tired king. "I can't tell you any more, the rest was all said in private. And I won't betray my friend for anyone, not even the king of Illéa. But stop being so presumptuous and stop interfering. You're only hurting people. I've been rooting for Maxica for a long time, but you've had your chance. And if you won't do anything about it besides pout and cry, I don't want to hear it. Either do something or step back in line. No use meandering about the middle, unless you like emotional manipulation. But be careful, Maxon. I will not stand for you hurting America any more than you already have."

Maxon smirked despite himself. "No, I think I got that when you threatened to make me cry back in the Selection."

Celeste pointed at him with the small tart she had grabbed before popping it in her mouth. Her expression was that of a teacher scolding a student.

"Go back to work, Maxon. I'm certain that you are supposed to be in a meeting or something. Birthday or not, you are still the king of Illéa."

Despite his dwindling anger, he knew Celeste was right. There was a pile of work the size of Angeles waiting for him on his desk. "Alright. I'll see you all tomorrow evening for the state dinner. Tonight is the family dinner, so wish me luck."

Celeste gave him a sympathetic smile and then shooed him from the room.

* * *

Dinner was simply dreadful. Maxon had entered the formal dining room with Kriss on his arm and had greeted the people already seated in the dining room. Though the event was more casual, they all rose and paid respects to the couple. It seemed like nothing could be normal, not even family gatherings.

He had at least some hope for a pleasant evening. After all, most of the people at the table were his own relatives. Unfortunately, Maxon and Kriss were seated at the head of the table and surrounded by her family. Only Amberly was close enough to exchange words with her son. The rest of the Ambers klan seemed to swarm around them while Adele and Amberly's other relatives were stuck at the other end of the table. Clarkson had been at the table the year before, but he was not there this time.

In all honesty, Maxon had no idea how he felt about that. He harbored unspeakable hate towards the man, but Clarkson was still his father. His heart had soared and shattered simultaneously when he heard the news. King Clarkson had died in a bloody rebel attack.

The murder was certainly gruesome, it even required a closed casket. The royal family was not informed of the gritty details, however, Maxon had seen his father's remains.

The thought bagged at him all even, despite his efforts to banish it. It was with great effort that he refrained from smashing Kriss' uncle's head into the table.

Kriss' family wasn't awful, they were actually quite nice people. They weren't mind readers, however. They had no idea that their mindless drabble and nasally voices grated Maxon's nerves, nor were they aware that their endless rambles on policy and their political ideas made the idea of mass homicide incredibly appealing.

Kriss did her best to reign them in when she noticed Maxon's strained smile, but it took a lot for Maxon to show his displeasure so obviously. Amberly could always tell how he felt, but she couldn't control her guests. She was trying her best to just make it through the night without Clarkson and had to focus all of her energy on keeping it together.

"So, Maxi," Kriss' drunk uncle slurred practically into his ear, "When are giving the kids what they need? The schools need more money, and they need royal babies."

Those sober enough to really understand what he said looked at him oddly. In total, that was about four people.

Maxon spoke slowly and in a measured tone, "There isn't enough money in our budget to give more to the schools right now. And I don't think Kriss and I will have enough children to send to every school in Illéa. Thank you for your concern, though."

"Sure you can. We Ambers are hella fertile," her uncle pushed on, despite his mistake. The Ambers clan had a hard time having children, and only Kriss' grandmother had managed to have more than one child. "But I get it, son. You're scared of turning out like daddy dearest. Well, don't be. You're too good a guy to whip your little babies."

There was a collective gasp that echoed in the room.

Amberly was frozen in place while Kriss dropped her fork.

Maxon stood abruptly, the chair scraping violently against the ground, and stalked out of the room.

There were only two people Maxon had ever told about his father and Clarkson hadn't told a soul. So how the hell did Kriss' uncle know about that? The answer was glaringly obvious, and it set Maxon's temper aflame.

How could Kriss betray him like that? He had told her in the strictest confidence with an oath to never tell another soul. She and her uncle weren't even close, so who knew whom else she told. The whole of Illéa could know at this point.

Maxon was beyond angry with his wife. He was seething in his fury. Cursing her name, he slammed his fist into the wall. After everything they had been through and all that he had done, she would still betray him.

This was nothing compared to what America did. She showed the world a book while Kriss passed around his biggest secret. America. Why did everything come back to her? He couldn't even be properly mad at Kriss without thinking back to the redheaded girl who stole his heart. But she was in the past.

He was running his hands through his hair and pacing when the doors opened again. Amberly appeared in front of him, her face etched in worry and regret.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hey, honey."

There was a small pause before either spoke again.

"I…" Amberly took a second to gather her thoughts and fight back the tears choking her. "I'm sorry, my dear. I should have stopped him from doing that to you. I would have if I had known, but I should have. What kind of mother doesn't know that her son is being abused? It's all my fa-"

Maxon cut her off, pulling her into a hug. "None of this is your fault, Mom. I didn't want you to know, it would only hurt you. I'm alright, I handled it."

"You did, and I'm so proud of you, but I wish you never had to deal with that. You don't deserve that, and I'm so sorry."

He just shushed her and held her tighter.

They parted when Maxon pulled back and smiled at her. "You should get back to dinner, they'll worry about us. I'm going to catch up on some work. I'm not really in the partying mood anymore. Feel free to sit with Adele." With that, he kissed her on the forehead and jogged away.

When he entered his room, Maxon almost felt like throwing up. This was where he and Kriss spent most nights together. She was supposed to be his wife and his queen, they were supposed to be able to trust each other. What had happened? He could hardly believe it, and he let his anger take over.

He tore through the room, swearing and smashing whatever he found in his path. He swept the tables clean, smashing glass on the floor and scattering papers. He threw everything in he could, screaming his pain. When he caught a glimpse of the case of hunting rifles, he charged for it. He grabbed the biggest one and started firing at the bed. He shot as many rounds as he had in the room before throwing the rifle through the glass door to the balcony. With little left to destroy, he ran to the door and punched a hole clean through it.

With his arm still in the door, hovering over splintered wood, Maxon exhaled sharply. He slowly withdrew his arm and fell to his knees.

There was only one place for him to go.

Maxon jumped to his feet and ran out of his room on unsteady feet, ignoring the ten guards surrounding the room with their guns raised. They were all clearly shocked and worried, but unsure if they should interfere with the king's outburst. Once it was clear he was not under attack they were supposed to leave, but none of them had moved more than a few inches.

He stumbled forward and down several hallways, finally arriving at a dark room.

The world was spinning, and the hurt was attacking him from every side. His father's words and abuse, his mother's pain, Kriss' betrayal, extreme loss, and regret were all tugging him down, trying to drown him in his anger and sorrow. The icy claws of pain clawed at him as he struggled with the doorknob, unable to see straight.

When he finally burst through the door, he staggered forward and collapsed on the satin bed.

"Hello?"

Her voice hit him hard, and Maxon cried out. His America. She was whom he needed, whom he had always needed. Everything was better when she was with him, but her voice also strengthened the emotional attack he was under.

How could he let the perfect woman walk away? He could never love anyone but her, and he had known it the whole time. But he let the only one for him go because of his stupid anger.

A voice whispered to him that she had betrayed him too, she had been cheating on him. Another squashed the first, reminding it about America's explanation and his own infidelity.

Oh, how he hated Kriss at this moment. She had let him down and was truly the major obstacle between him and America. He missed his love with all that he had, his soul aching to be with her. His feelings in regard to America were overpowering, and there was no way he could let her go again. But then regret came back to stab him in the chest. She wasn't his, he had let her go and married Kriss. Now they could never be anything, not even with Kriss' faults. He couldn't do that to her. But, oh, how he wanted to.

"Maxon?"

He didn't respond and she didn't say anything further. After an awkward paused, she moved towards him and enveloped in him in her arms.

For the longest time, they only sat holding each other and listening to the breaths filling the room.

America lifted her hand and began stroking his hair. With that, the flood of words rushed forward.

Maxon told her everything, sobbing and ranting about all that had happened and his overpowering emotions. Letting out the fear, pain, anger, desperation, and regret that plagued him.

"I can't believe this," he cried into her hair. "After everything that's happened, this get piled on top. I never should have picked Kriss. How can someone hurt the person they love so much?"

He tightened his grip on her, mumbling into her shoulder about how foolish he was. Despite the sharp pain in her chest, she continued to comfort Maxon. He was distraught, he couldn't understand how much he was really hurting her. But it did hurt. Of course he loved Kriss, and of course she loved him. It was the kind of love she wanted, something that could endure all of their fights. But it was the kind of love that she would never have again.

"I'm so sorry, America. I can't believe I let you go. I ruined all of our lives. I love you and always have." He peered into her eyes, wanting to see that she forgave him, or at least believed him. He must not have found the indicator he was looking for, because he pressed on urgently.

"I mean it, America. I know you may not feel the same, not after everything I've done to you, but you've always meant the world to me. It was you from the second I laid my eyes on you. You are perfect in every way. No one could ever convince me otherwise, not even myself. I'm the biggest fool for letting you go, I'm so sorry. Please, America. Say you believe me. I don't need your forgiveness, just please believe me. I can't live in a world where you think I'm lying about my love."

Maxon was leaning in closely, examining every aspect of her face and looking for a clue as to how she felt.

America didn't know what she was supposed to do. What does one do when a crazed king shows up in their bedroom and makes confessions that change everything? She decided to simply answer him.

"Of course I do."

That was enough for him, and he closed the miniscule gap between them.

He kissed her with all of his love and longing, crushing her form against his. She tangled her hands in her hair, intoxicated by his presence and lost in him. This is what they had been missing the past two years. Love, passion, and so much more.

But just as soon as it began, it ended.

America felt the warmth disappear, replaced by a chilly wind. When she opened her eyes, he was gone. The only sign that someone had ever been there was the rumpled sheets and the open door letting light into the room.


	4. Wednesday Morning

Breakfast the next morning was almost silent, but the room buzzed in anticipation. It seemed everyone had seen what had happened the night before and was waiting with bated breath for an explosion.

If anything had happened, that is. America had no idea if it had all been real, but now she was fairly sure it was.

When she had regained control of her erratic heartbeat, she noticed the bed was still crumpled and the door was still wide open, letting the light from the hallway spill into the room.

Yet when they had seen each other, neither had acted any different than two strangers.

America suddenly felt a pair of eyes on her and looked discreetly for their owner. She glanced at Amy before quickly averting her eyes. Amy was blatantly staring at her with a blank expression.

Surely she couldn't know what had happened? No, it was impossible. America had seen Amy heading to the royal jeweler with her husband, the two would have been out at that time. Still, something about it nagged at her.

Eventually, she turned away, allowing America to breathe again.

Shortly after, America felt a hot breath on her ear and shivers ran down her spine.

"Hello, darling."

Connor was leaning over her shoulder and whispering in her ear, much to the horror of the some of the other diners. It was an egregious breach of protocol and, somewhere in the palace, Silvia was having an anxiety attack.

America, however, only laughed lightly and pretended to be engrossed in her omelet.

"You seem very interested in that omelet, may I have a bite?"

Without waiting for her to respond, he bent down and stole the piece she had on her fork, suspended in mid-air due to her shock.

America turned to face him and scowled. Her chin was lifted proudly and her nose was in the air. "You never touch a lady's meal. I will have you know that it is a crime punishable by death." She broke into a smile and lightly kissed the tip of his nose.

Connor clutched his heart as if he had been struck and fell to his knees. "My fair lady, you injure me. Is there a way for me to pay penance for my abominable crime?" He took her hand and kissed the palm, gazing deeply into her eyes.

They were attracting more than just a couple stares now. Most were glancing indulgently, though King Maxon was particularly stone-faced. Amberly smiled knowingly at America while Queen Kriss had a genial air about her. Celeste had never looked more smug than when she saw the pair's public displays of affection and Maxon's subsequent reaction.

America did her best to suppress her giggles when she spoke again. "Must I chide you on your poor manners? To think how ashamed your governess would be, young man."

"I'm afraid I'll do worse. The poor soul must be spinning in her grave."

She sighed dramatically. "Run along now. Come find me in sitting room five hundred and fifty-seven in an hour's time."

"Ah, my sweet lady, how unfortunate a situation do I find myself in. I am loath to tell you so, but I've no idea where sitting room five hundred and fifty-seven is located. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me on the layout of this splendiferous palace?"

"Certainly." She leaned forward conspiratably and whispered, "The gardens. I'll be waiting."

"Heaven forbid you should be alone for long. Fear not, madam. I will come to your aide. Goodbye, my dearest America."

Connor rose from the ground and straightened his suit. He pressed his lips against the top of her head while she blushed as a farewell. After retreating to his seat, he couldn't help but feel a lingering set of eyes on him.

America felt them too. She peaked up, but couldn't find their owner. Most of the present guests were the Selected and the relatives of the royal family since officials and politically important guests weren't arriving until later that day. A few had arrived early, but most were still traveling.

When she finally gathered the courage to glance at who she was now sure the culprit was, she found Maxon's eyes locked on her. His menacing scowl and white-knuckle grip on his fork were concerning, but America brushed off her discomfort. He had no right to be so mad or judge them. They were all adults and should mind their own business.

* * *

America let out a blood-curdling scream.

She had been walking through the gardens, waiting for Connor. Just as she walked past the rose bush, a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist.

Her heart skipped a beat as fear coursed through her. Her fighting instincts kicked in and she tried to wrench her hand out of the death grip. When it became clear she was not strong enough, she started to really panic. America sank her teeth into the hand and took off when it released her. She was not ready to die, and hell would freeze over before she gave in.

"America, wait," a familiar voice called to her.

She turned back around, fuming. "Connor, what the hell? Don't scare me like that."

He chuckled lightly and lifted her hand so that she could see the bite mark. "I think I learned my lesson."

He offered her the non-offensive hand which she took despite all of her very skeptical glares. Her supposed reluctance only served to make him laugh as it was clear she wasn't truly mad.

The pair began walking in comfortable silence. After a few minutes, Connor broke it.

"I've been wondering what your home life is like. I don't know much about them, only that they're related to you." He laughed lightly and snuck a glance at her content smile.

"They're all lunatics." She stifled her giggles and spoke with a nostalgic smile, "But they're all amazing. I've got a mom, an older sister, an older brother, a younger sister, and a younger brother in that order." Her smile fell.

"My dad passed away about two years ago. He was my rock. I wish you could see some of his works, they are stunning. He was talented, skilled, quiet, and amazingly kind.

"On the other hand, my older brother, his name's Kota, left once he got a little money. We used to play together, but it was really more like he was using me. His sculptures are all he really cares about. We haven't spoken since he tried to force his way on to the palace guest list."

She shook off the heavy cloud and refocused on the positive. "My older sister Kenna has always been a role model of mine and a wonderful advice dispensary. She's so many good things that I couldn't possibly express. She's got a heart of gold. She married James a few years back and the two have a daughter now. Astra's her name and she's simply adorable.

"May, my little sister, is boy-crazy and an amazing artist. It's like she has a new boyfriend and a new masterpiece every week. She's always so bubbly, she reminds me slightly of one of my close friends. She's truly an angel. One that's going to get into a lot of trouble, but she is an angel under all of her schemes. I hear she looks like me, but really she's much prettier."

"Ah, spoken like an oblivious beauty."

"What on Earth do you mean?"

"That you're clearly gorgeous be refuse to accept it."

America could only humph, there was no point in arguing over something so arbitrary. "Well, back to my family, Gerad's the baby brother. He'd love to study bugs or play ball, but you know how the Castes are. He's started to sing since he'll need to work. He really is sweet though.

My mom's still in the music industry, so she's been hoping he'd pick that. It's easier for her to train him since my dad passed away and May's never taught anyone. My mom's always been focused on money and comfort, but I know she loves us. She's just trying to get us everything we need and it's been extra difficult since my dad passed. She's also taught me most of what I know about music and domestic activities. I'll always be grateful for her."

"They sound lovely."

"Your turn."

"To tell you about my family?"

"Duh."

"Alright, well there isn't much."

"Indulge me."

Connor was silent for a moment, considering what to tell her about his home life. "I don't think there is much to tell you about. My mother was a model and my father is the governor of Likely so I've always had a comfortable life. My sister's a singer. I really don't know what to tell you, we're rather average. I'm not incredibly close with them but we're not distant. I don't think I could really describe our relationship properly."

"Do you see them often?"

"Not really, I tend to be traveling around for my movie shoots."

Her expression perked up a little. "Do you travel a lot? I've hardly been anywhere outside of Angeles and Carolina."

"I suppose I travel a lot, but not as much as I imagine the royal family would."

America shrugged listlessly. "Actually, the royal family doesn't travel much at all. It's part of why I didn't want to be queen. I'd hate to be trapped in this cage for so long."

"I never thought that you would be against the idea. You were in the Selection, after all."

"Yeah, but I didn't really want to be there at first. Eventually, I started to care for Maxon, but I never wanted to be queen. I just didn't want the judging stares, the stress, the lifestyle, or the power."

"I understand, it's not someone everyone would like. Putting all that aside, I think you would have made an amazing queen."

"Oh? And how exactly do you know that?"

He smiled at her and stepped closer. "I've known you for three days and I can already tell how amazing you are." He leaned in even closer and tucked a stray lock of flaming hair behind her left ear. As he spoke, his voice deepened and became softer. "You're intelligent, moral, kind, charming, innovative, witty, beautiful, and so much more." Their breaths intermingled for a moment before he pulled her to him.

The rest of the world vanished when he pressed his lips to hers.

Just as soon as the kiss began, it ended.

America felt Connor rip away from her. Baffled, she opened her eyes to see Connor lying in the grass with Maxon standing threateningly above him.

"What the hell are you doing? How fucking dare you. I swear to God, if you touch one more hair on her head, you'll find yourself on a plane to New Asia faster than you can cry for your mommy. Do not fucking test me."

Holding onto his dignity, Connor kept his tone unaffected. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, I don't feel that your actions are necessary. I've stayed within the boundaries of her complete consent."

Connor rose from the ground gracefully. Staring him down, Maxon spat out the words like they were poison, "Respect my ass. Listen the fuck up, you useless bastard. I know what consent looks like, and you were basically molesting her."

"I was doing no such thing, just ask Ames."

"You aren't good enough to call her that," he hissed, offended by the casual use of her nickname.

"I don't believe it's up to you to decide what I can and cannot call her."

"I believe it is, as I am the king of Illéa."

"It doesn't seem very appropriate to be using your title to try and scare away anyone your ex might be interested in.

"Interested, ha. What a joke. You are a distraction and a nuisance. The only things you are interested in are her fame and her body."

"I don't believe we've met before, so I don't think you're qualified to determine what exactly I want. What I desire is a companion, someone whose company might make the week here more interesting. I don't need fame or money, I've got my fair share of both, hence why I was invited. If I wanted a body, I could have bought one. I want a friend and to brighten someone else's day. I do have feelings for America, but I'd accept it if she never wanted to see me again. I won't force her into anything, I only want happiness for both of us."

"Like you could make her happy. What can you give her that I, the king of Illéa, can't? What could possibly make you so special? You don't know Ames as I do, you could never make her happy."

"Well, for starters, I can give her an exclusive relationship and fidelity. I can also provide a comfortable life without the power I know America's never wanted."

"Like you know anything about her. She'd be an amazing queen."

"I agree, but she doesn't want that position or the pressure. She doesn't want to be constantly ridiculed and forced to make terrible decisions that would tear at her. She doesn't want any of it, so why should she be forced into that spot?"

Maxon's anger faltered. "I would never have forced her."

"And neither would I, so I'd thank you to back off."

"That is a completely different thing, and I don't think I will ease up. I know exactly what guys like you do, you play innocent girls. You don't love America."

"I wouldn't do anything like that to her. I may not be completely in love with her, but we met two days ago. I'd be in love with a picture if I found myself devoted so quickly and carelessly."

Maxon clenched his fists, trying to hold them back. "Are you implying our relationship was illegitimate? That I'm an idiot and a fool?"

Connor sniffed disdainfully at his tone. "I have said no such thing."

"You've basically done as much. Well, I am not the fool here, you are if you think I will let you get anywhere near America."

"I like to think she's enjoyed my company so far, seeing as she reciprocates and continues to allow me the honor of seeing her."

"Like you'd know what she feels."

"I've always taken America as a more straightforward girl, are you trying to tell me something else? That the girl you're supposed to care about isn't at all what you've said? She seems transparent to me, but do explain."

"You don't know her as I do, she is everything I've said and more, but you'd never be able to figure that out."

"We've just met, but I think I've got a good grip on the concept. Besides, I think we can find plenty of time to get to know each other."

"You sick fuck," Maxon spat out, disgust clouding his features. "You'd sleep with her out of marriage and get her killed?"

"I never said anything like that, but your jealousy is more than glaringly obvious. No, I actually care about Ames and her happiness. I wouldn't do anything that would hurt her, like kissing other girls."

Maxon's frown deepened. "That was different, it was the Selection. I've always loved Ames."

"You say you love her, but that doesn't seem quite right. You did marry the queen, yes? It seems that your love should lie with Her Majesty. Where is she? I do believe you are supposed to be with her."

"Shut your mouth, you don't know anything."

"I think I know enough. I would certainly make her happier than you have, so you can back off."

With barely suppressed rage, Maxon grabbed Connor by the collar. "Now listen here," he began, his voice dripping in sarcasm, "Buddy. I am your king. I've made her happier than you ever could. Monsters like you," he tightened his grip, "are—"

"Maxon Calix Schreave, you let him go this instant." Once she had regained her bearings and comprehended the situation, America had to stop herself from laughing out loud. Maxon was obviously jealous and Connor was trying to fend him off. She watched the two argue, rapidly firing insults, her face a mix of impatience and amusement. It was like the two had forgotten she was there, despite her being the center of their argument. When Maxon grabbed Connor, America stepped in to break the two apart. "What are you, thirteen? You two can stop the measuring contest, I'm not a prize."

He glared at her briefly before facing Connor again. The fury in Maxon's face is undeniable and his breathing was heavy

America, exasperated by their silly contest, physically stepped between them. "This is absolutely ridiculous, break it up."

Connor sighed and took her hand kindly, about to turn away, but Maxon only became more upset. The tender gesture was too much for him. Instead of letting Connor shake off Maxon's grip on his collar, Maxon pulled him in closer. The two men moved closer to each other, glaring at each other and sizing each other up. Maxon was itching for a fight and there was no way Connor would let it slide. They both ignored the fact that America was uncomfortably pressed between both of them, unable to move much.

"They vaguely heard her protests and chiding, but persisted. It wasn't until she shoved them both back that they paid her any attention.

"What in the world is wrong with you two?" she cried out, frustrated beyond words at their behavior.

"There's nothing wrong with me. It's this Connor fellow that bothers me. He's not good enough for you, and who knows what evil he's up to," Maxon haughtily replied. His jealousy was so evident that it was almost visibly seeping through his words.

Connor matched his tone again, finding it important to stand up to Maxon. "I don't think it's fair to limit you to one preselected partner. You're a grown woman and you can make your own decisions. You don't need a jealous ex butting in and making a mess of your life."

"You two are both insane and in trouble. You can finish your dick-measuring contest later. Maxon, we need to talk right now.

She held his wrist in a vice grip, dragging him out of earshot.

America spun around. Her piercing blue eyes were accusing and her lips twisted into a scowl.

"What the hell, Maxon?"

He quickly went to defend himself, completely unashamed of himself. "I didn't like the way he was talking to you and making advances."

"He wasn't doing anything wrong, we were just hanging out."

Maxon scoffed disbelievingly.

She pushed on, "I'm serious. He only kissed me once, it wasn't a big deal. But then you stepped in, like always."

"I wouldn't call that a small kiss. I'd call that a makeout session," Maxon shot back.

Offended, she continued, "It was none of your business and I wasn't in trouble. I didn't need your help, but then you, a married man, stepped in and started to threaten his life. This is insane. I can't believe you and your atrocious behavior."

"You can't believe me? That's rich. If I recall correctly, you've got a much shorter temper than myself. Not to mention the fact that you're consorting with a virtual stranger shamelessly."

"Why should I be ashamed of trying to find someone to love? What, you a get a bride and I get a cat?"

"I never said you can't meet someone, just not—"

"Just not someone you haven't pre-selected for me. I just can't date anyone who isn't you."

"I never said any such thing."

"Oh yeah? What if I want to marry Aspen?"

"That's different, he's cheated on you before. He broke your heart and, honestly, simply isn't right for you."

"But according to you, I can't date anyone I've met after you. Why? Because they haven't known me as long as you have? That's ridiculous. Especially since Aspen is the only man I've met before you and you've banned him. This is utter insanity."

"I can't trust a stranger with a Daughter of Illéa."

"Everyone's a stranger to you at first, Maxon. That's why you have to meet them. You're literally trying to forbid me from seeing anyone except yourself."

Finding no good response, he changed his angle of attack. "You have no idea what kind of motivations he might have. He could be a goddamned rebel."

"Like the queen of Illéa?"

As soon as the words left her lips, America clamped a hand over her mouth. It took a moment for her words to fully sink in for Maxon.

"What?"

"Forget it." Uncomfortable and suddenly desperate to get away, America made a small curtsy and scurried away.

Maxon followed a bit behind, his face wiped clean of any of its previous emotions.

America took Connor's hand and tried to lead him away, but he stood his ground. He wearily watched Maxon approach them, but didn't speak.

"How long have you know?"

Maxon's shocked tone did little to set her at ease. America shifted awkwardly, unsure of how much she should reveal. Deciding to be frank, she lifted her chin and steeled herself. "The Christmas party, right before you proposed."

She was ready for a verbal attack. She was surprised that it never came. Maxon only bowed shallowly and retreated inside.

* * *

Back in her room, America let herself fall onto the bed.

"Miss?" Jenny's voice wavered slightly.

America only made a muffled groan while lying face down.

"My Lady, you must start getting prepared for the State Dinner."

America mutely shook her head.

"No? Should I send you excuses?" Jenny could hardly stop herself from laughing at her charge's childish behavior.

With a heavy sigh, America rolled over. "No, I'll go. I should get ready. Just not yet."

"I'll start your bath and you can get in when it's ready," Jenny replied, suppressing a smirk.

After her luxurious bath, America stepped out to find her maid admiring a gorgeous blue gown.

"Oh, I brought some of my own dresses. I didn't realize you were making anything, you really didn't have to."

Jenny smiled at her briefly before returning to the dress. "No, I didn't make this, though it is beautiful. Three of the maids came by and dropped it off. Her Majesty's maids, actually. I assume you are familiar with them?"

America's whole face lit up. "Anne, Mary, and Lucy were here? They're so sweet, you'll have to pass along my thanks."

She took a closer look at the deep blue ensemble. It was sexier than she was used to, as it was only a short skin tight dress that went to her knees with a floor-length sheer skirt on top. The intricate detailing was gorgeous and the dress shimmered in the light, but the curves of her body would be clearly visible. The neckline dipped lower than her usual clothes and the dress was backless. It wasn't too scandalous, but it would surely draw attention.

Jenny helped America get completely ready, putting her hair up and doing her makeup. When America saw herself, her breath was taken away. Her reflection shimmered in the light. It did so literally as Jenny had dusted some powder over her exposed skin.

"Thank you so much, Jenny. You did wonderfully," she breathed.

"I'm only doing my job."

"You're incredibly good at it, thank you."

Jenny blushed and shooed her out the door.

* * *

America met Connor in the hall as she walked to the dining room.

"Hey, Ames." The two talked for a minute before Connor sheepishly apologized for his behavior.

"Don't worry too much about it, Maxon was out of line," came her flippant reply. "Besides, you know what you did wrong."

"Well, I'm glad to know that you forgive me anyways. Would you allow me to escort you to dinner?"

She smiled her assent and followed him down the hall. An arm snaked around her and rested on her bare back.

When they reached their destination, two guards pulled open the double doors to reveal the golden dining room. Many had arrived only a few moments before and were getting seated. Maxon and Kriss stood by the doors, receiving guests.

"America and Captain Wilkes. It is a pleasure to see you two again, thank you for coming." Kriss was smiling warmly at the two.

Maxon, on the other hand, was made of stone. He only offered the most basic cordial greeting, unable to hide the menacing glare that took over his face when he saw how Connor's arm rested on her bare back. "America, Captain Wilkes."

Kriss pretended not to notice his cold behavior. "You two are seated next to each other." Her smile gave away her part in the seating arrangement. "You'll find your seats near the head of the table and the other Selected."

Maxon's brows creased and his scowl deepened.

America and Connor made their way to their places while Kriss shot him a warning glance.

"We have important guests to greet, please try to smile, darling."

* * *

 _A/N_

 _I've been trying to write longer chapters so they tend to come out much slower. I had also written the first two years ago and all I did was rewrite portions of it, hence why they are so terrible in my opinion. I'm sure you noticed that I changed someone's name... Tristan Wilkes is now Connor. Honestly, I Tristan was the name I came up with a few years ago and I don't think it fits him very well. Connor's certainly an improvement in my mind._ _Anyway, thank you all for reading. I'll try to upload within the next few centuries._


	5. A Glimpse at Dinner

Connor led America into the golden room, his arm still confidently around her. She tried her best to take in the splendor as they approached their seats. The event was straight out of a fairytale. The guests, practically dripping in jewelry, mingled with the others sitting nearby. The table settings were just as lavish as the rest of the scene, each one having six crystal glasses and a plethora of silverware. Along the middle of the table, there were priceless antique vases, each made of precious materials and filled with freshly cut flowers. Shimmering curtains dotted with diamonds were draped over the windows while similar fabric cascaded down the walls. The furniture looked like pieces from the old French palace, Versailles. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, adding to the magnificence of the room.

The palace had certainly spent a fortune on the decorations. Clearly, they wanted to impress the people present.

Celeste broke away from the conversation she was having with the Italian queen and immediately wrapped America in a tight embrace. True to her style, she was wearing a sexy red ensemble. Somehow, she still managed to look somewhat classy with the slit exposing the majority of her leg.

"America," she started in a singsong tone, "Guess what I heard?" She noticed that America's eyes had drifted away for a moment. Celeste cast a glance at Connor before turning back to America and smirking. "Actually, let me find you later. I would love to tell you all about it but I think that I should wait for a more appropriate time. Would you mind if I stop by this evening?"

"No," America replied cautiously while eyeing Celeste suspiciously. "You can come by but I'm concerned that I'll regret letting you in."

Celeste only gave her a sly look. "You might, just make sure you're not in a compromising situation."

Nicoletta snickered at the insinuations.

America beamed at her old friend. "Nicoletta, it's been far too long since I've seen you. How have you been?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Things are fine, but they would be much better if you were on that throne. I'm afraid Italy isn't willing to align itself with the current Illéa." She sent America a knowing and unimpressed glance. Smiling again, Nicoletta immediately lightened the mood. "No worries, principessa. I'm not mad, only a little upset my favorite in the Selection didn't win. You go to your seats. The royal couple should be entering soon and you're supposed to be seated by then."

Perhaps twenty minutes later, all of the guests had made their way into the dining room and were seated. Maxon and Kriss remained outside and the doors had been closed so that they could make their grand entrance and begin the meal.

"Are you ready, dear?" Maxon avoided her eyes as she asked.

"I suppose," he replied, his tone clipped.

Exasperated, Kriss finally let out a huff and spun to face her husband. "Maxon, you've been acting like a child all day. I don't know what on Earth is wrong and if you won't tell me, you could at least keep yourself from making a spectacle in front of all our guests. We're trying to form political ties and celebrate your birthday, not throw temper tantrums."

"I suppose I am the spectacle. After all, I'm the king who married a rebel without knowing. My queen is a traitor to her own husband." He spoke bitterly, spitting out the words and watching her from the corner of his eye.

Kriss' jaw dropped and she spluttered for a moment in confusion. As she comprehended what he said, her features filled with fear. "Maxon, it's not what it looks like." She floundered for anything that might make the situation better. "I'm not a rebel anymore, I swear. On my life, I am done with all that. I was only a part of the rebellion when I back in the Selection, but I love you and I've stopped. I even loved you during the Selection, I wasn't fighting for the rebels."

He scoffed at her proclamation in disbelief.

"It's true, I do love you. I cut all ties with the rebels and haven't spoken to them in years."

He finally turned to face her, his face twisted in anger. "You love me, do you? You wouldn't have kept that from me if we did. I don't think you know what love is. You just know that as long as you tell me that, I'll pay for all your fancy parties and give you all of the insider information you need to overthrow me. If you cared about me, you wouldn't keep secrets from me while giving all of mine away. Honestly, it's just betrayal after betrayal with you, Kriss. I really can't trust you with anything, can I? Perhaps I should exile you, the people would back me." And it would be one of the few ways that he could marry America.

"But I—"

The volume from inside the dining room rose slightly, reminding Maxon of what they were supposed to be doing.

He cut her off impatiently. "I don't have time for you, Kriss. We'll get through tonight with no incidents. We'll talk in your room later and I'll be seeing the advisors tomorrow. Let's go."

Kriss quickly blinked back tears and took Maxon's stiff arm. They both pasted pretty smiles on their faces and braced themselves for the applause that would accompany their entrance. He knocked once, letting the guards inside know that they were ready to enter. They could hear the crowd inside hush as someone announced their arrival. The doors opened and the royal couple was hit with a wall of sound. They made their way to the head of the table and began the charade of a happy couple.

Throughout dinner, during the small lulls of conversation, Connor would lean over and whisper quietly into America's ear. He mostly made entertaining comments on things throughout the room or complimented her. Occasionally, however, he leaned in and whispered something that made her heart simply melt or skip a few beats.

Dinner overall went very smoothly. After the meal had been polished off, everyone milled about the room, talking. They were all waiting until the had talked with the king, as was expected, before they could retire to their rooms.

Maxon had mostly calmed down when he found himself in the same conversation as Kriss, Celeste, America, and Connor. It was torture, watching him lean over and whisper in her ear. Who knew what he was saying that made her blush and giggle.

It got so much worse when he saw Connor lean in and kiss her cheek. Instead of pulling back immediately, he bit her earlobe lightly.

America turned bright red under all of her makeup and stuttered on her response to Celeste's next question. Instead of fleeing, however, she actually leaned close to him.

Despite all of her embarrassment, she couldn't help feeling a strong attraction to Connor. There was something about him that drew her closer. Besides, she had no objection to anything he had been doing.

Connor failed to suppress his smug smirk when he saw her reaction. He moved the conversation on flawlessly. Celeste and Kriss both kept silent about the interaction, it was likely that they hadn't completely seen what had happened based on how they were positioned. Maxon was a very different story.

He had the perfect view. Or the worst, depending on how one viewed the situation. He immediately stopped inputting, instead putting all of his energy into restraining himself from murdering the man across from him. A crime had never sounded more tempting. When Connor locked eyes with Maxon's, he was met with a mix of outrage and sorrow. While Maxon's face was composed, a skill he had honed in all his years in the spotlight, his turbulent eyes and drawn lips betrayed his displeasure.

Just as Maxon couldn't control his jealousy, Connor couldn't control his enjoyment in showing the king just who America was interested in.

It had only been about two minutes before Maxon couldn't take seeing the couple anymore.

"America," Maxon awkwardly cut back into the conversation, "I need to talk with you in the hall." He gestured towards the door and began to speed toward it, all the while radiating a dangerous and uncertain aura.

The doors swung shut soundly behind them. They continued down the hall and around several corners until Maxon was content with their private spot.

Now isolated in the hall, Maxon had no idea what to say. He stood conflicted on what to do until America broke the silence.

"You wanted to talk, what's up?"

Without thinking, Maxon pushed her against the wall and claimed her lips. He forgot everything they had gone through and focused solely on the feeling of her mouth on his, terrified of never getting to hold her again.

Everything became foggy for America. She barely had time to process that her back ached slightly before she was under the onslaught of everything that was Maxon. His cologne was intoxicating and sensual, drawing her away from reality. She was shocked and taken aback, but she lost the ability to form coherent thoughts. Instead, she returned his kisses. Instinctually, she combed her hands in his hair and moaned slightly.

They both ignored the clatter of his crown falling to the floor, too wrapped up in each other to notice something so seemingly insignificant. Maxon kissed her harder, desperate to feel her and to taste her once more. His hands roamed over every inch of exposed skin that he could find, needing to touch her.

She pushed herself against him, drawing a groan from his lips. She took the opportunity to bite his bottom lip and smooth over the mark with her tongue.

She was driving him wild. Everything else faded and the present was all he cared about, where he could hold his darling America and know that she at least wanted him too.

They paused for only a moment, but it was enough for the illusion to shatter. They stood pressed to one another, breathing heavily and unsure of what had just possessed them.

"America…"

She shook her head violently and pushed Maxon back.

"Nothing happened. Go back inside, I think I'll excuse myself for the night." Her voice came out unsteady and breathy.

Maxon took a step closer and spoke more firmly. "America. Don't shut me out, we should talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"I beg to differ." Maxon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He only then noticed the absence of his crown. He scooped it up with one hand and returned it to the top of his head. With the ornamental piece back on his head, he approached her again. "America, I know you still have feelings for me and you know that I still love you."

She didn't respond.

He pressed on, "I made a huge mistake in picking Kriss but I can figure out a way around it."

Her mounting frustration manifested itself in her expression. Her face twisted in disbelief and her voice come out flippant. "How? You're married, Maxon. She's your wife, even flirting with me is wrong and I won't be anyone's mistress. As for marriage, you need to remember that she's your queen, you can't remove her without major public backlash."

"I don't care about the backlash. I'll divorce her, I'd do anything so that we can be together." He desperately clutched her hand.

"What good has ignoring the public ever done anyone? You have much more to consider than your own emotions. How do you think Kriss would feel if you abandoned her for her supposed best friend? How do you think the people would feel if you betrayed their beloved queen and backed out on your word?"

"You want me too." It was clearly a last ditch effort of his to convince her.

"That has nothing to do with anything."

"It changes everything."

"No, it really doesn't."

"America—"

"Goodnight, Maxon." She broke away suddenly and disappeared around the corner.

Maxon fell heavily against the wall, unable to muster the strength to stand, let alone return to the party.

At some point, he did manage to make his way back into the crowded and glittering room.

With Kriss on his arm, he did laps around the room and conversed with as many important people as he could. Connections were important to the weak Illéa and connections weren't formed by sitting around lazily.

The server quietly weaving through the crowd had lost count of how many champagne flutes he had snatched off of her tray.

As the night went on, guests slowly took their leave and trickled out of the room. Maxon and Kriss continued their rounds until around eleven when Kriss began to lean heavily on Maxon.

"Are you alright, Kriss?"

She made a small noise that was similar to an affirmation, but she was obviously losing hold of herself.

Maxon felt exasperation rising in his chest. Kriss wasn't as well suited to the job as everyone thought. Clearly, she couldn't handle the strain. The guilt poking his heart did little to dissuade him of this opinion. "I'm not sure you're fit to be hosting right now." His tone came out gentler than he had intended.

"I'm just so tired, Maxon." Kriss' speech lagged slightly, the fatigue clear in every manner.

"I know you are, my dear."

"We have to say goodbye to the guests," she stated matter-of-factly, looking up at him innocently, if a little sadly.

Her eyes were barely open and she swayed slightly in her place. She looked so much like a sleepy child who had stayed up past their bedtime.

Maxon felt a surge of affection for the girl before him. That's all she was really: a girl trying to do her best in her new role of pleasing her husband and her country. America had been right in the hallway. How could he hurt Kriss? She hadn't done anything wrong and didn't deserve to have her heart broken. She had betrayed his trust though. Hadn't America done that too? America had managed to earn it back, would Kriss? Maybe she deserved a chance. She certainly didn't deserve to be exiled so that he could marry America. He couldn't do that to her. But how could he let America go? He hated himself at that moment. He had dug his own grave and done them all in because he got jealous. Now he knew that Aspen hadn't even been romantically involved with America at the time. He was a fool of the highest caliber.

"Go to bed, Kriss. I'll take care of the remaining guests. There are only a few anyway." There was little sense in forcing her to stay up. Her conversational skills were dwindling and her presence wasn't crucial. As long as he explained that she was feeling too sick to be a good host, things would go smoothly. The little white lie was important, though. Only saying that she was tired would imply disrespect, the opposite of what he was trying to communicate.

"But it's my duty. Besides, you wanted to… talk." She twisted the fabric of her dress nervously. Kriss knew perfectly well that he had wanted to kill her earlier in the night and dreaded what would come.

He sighed heavily and almost ran a hand through his hair, stopping when his fingers hit the heavy crown atop his head. "It's alright, we can talk later. I don't want to overtax you."

She nodded wearily, still unable to fully compose her features. He watched her, somehow still graceful in her exhaustion, turn and make her way down the hall.

What had he gotten himself into? There was no way out without hurting someone, and it looked like he would have to sacrifice a piece of himself no matter what he chose.

* * *

He opened his eyes to see America's pleading eyes drilling into his. She called out to him, beseeching him to help her.

He didn't move. He didn't know why. Maybe he couldn't help her and maybe he wouldn't. She kept calling, her voice rising in pitch and her tears streaming down her face. He didn't do anything.

Suddenly Kriss was beside him. She smiled, just the slightest bit, and leaned into him.

America stopped screaming. She dried her tears and only glared at him before she turned and fled from the room. He moved to chase her but felt Kriss grasp his arm tighter. He looked down at her and saw the betrayal in her eyes. What was he supposed to do? Follow the girl he loved or the one he was meant to?

He woke suddenly only to find that it was well before dawn and that his shirt was soaked in sweat.

A sense of self-loathing overpowered him at that moment. He hated himself with every fiber of his being. How could he let her get away? How could he hurt the love of his life? He slammed his hand into the bedside table angrily. He ran his uninjured hand through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. He examined his other hand. It hurt, but it was nothing. Maxon flopped back into bed and was grateful that Kriss hadn't woken up. That was one less thing to worry about.

 _This was a shorter chapter as I have lacked both motivation and time. For me, writing is very mood based. It's hard to motivate myself to write good scenes if I'm not feeling the emotions I want to channel. It's really not an excuse for my lack of writing, but it's kind of an explanation. If I force myself to write, it comes out as awkward. Well, more awkward than I already am. As of the past couple of months, I've been incredibly unmotivated and empty. It's been hard to do anything and my school work has been adding stress like never before. I honestly just have to look at the Gmail app icon, the app which only has my school email on it, to start feeling anxious and unmotivated. I've been trying to write on the days I feel more positive or negative emotions, but I'm just so frequently empty that it's really hard. Besides, a mood can last as little as five minutes for me. Other times it can last about a day. This is sort of an explanation for my erratic updates. I was planning on updating more regularly but my school work and lack of interest have sabotaged that idea._


	6. A Nice Way to Start a Thursday

"So, how was your day?" Celeste wiggled her eyebrows teasingly at America.

Nicoletta joined in immediately, hopping onto the bed with the other two girls. "Yes, you have to tell us everything."

"Did you hear," Celeste started with a wise and haughty tone, "That the governor of Likely's son, Connor Wilkes, asked to meet wither her in private this morning?" Celeste turned back to America. "Start talking."

A faint blush appeared on America's face. Unfortunately for her, Nicoletta noticed right away. "Ooh, it was something good. Look at her face, she's blushing. So what did he do?" Nicoletta leaned in closer and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Did he kiss you? Whisk you away to a fantasy world and steal your heart? Or—" Nicoletta gasped with delight. "Did Maxon find you two and get jealous? Oh my gosh, tell us."

"I think you summed it up pretty aptly, Nicoletta."

The other two squealed with delight. Their eager expressions made it clear that the little bit of information was not enough to satisfy them.

"Stop teasing us, America. Give us all the juicy details," Celeste pressed. "What is Connor like? How good of a kisser was he? Did you like it? Do you like him? What did Maxon see? What did Maxon do?"

"I don't know," America said, dodging Celeste's more probing questions. "It was just a kiss. Of course I like Connor, he's a great guy." She ignored the giggles from the other girls. "I don't really know what's up with Maxon." There was a beat of hesitation. "I'm not sure what he saw, but he freaked out. It was unbelievable, he actually attacked Connor. He was shouting at us and degrading Connor, saying that he wasn't good enough for me. It was so stupid."

Her two friends scoffed in disbelief. Celeste jumped in first. "I can't believe him. That's not cool. Even if Connor isn't good enough for you, there's no reason for him to overreact like that. It's not like Connor was hurting you, right?"

"No, he wasn't. It was ridiculous, Maxon's trying to stop me from dating the only guy I've found since him that I'm interested in. It's not like Connor's done anything wrong, I don't get it."

Nicoletta spoke up next. "He's just burning with jealousy and self-resentment. He probably regrets letting you go, that's the most likely reason why he acted like that. It's still absolutely not okay, though. I thought he had more self-control than that," Nicoletta said, frowning.

"He normally does, but apparently me dating is too sore of a topic," America scoffed.

"Don't worry, Ames. He doesn't control you and you can date anyone you want. Just not someone who's taken."

America shifted uncomfortably under their stares.

Celeste narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?" America shot back, defensively.

"I know you're hiding something, it's all over your face."

Nicoletta began to scrutinize her too. "What happened?" She thought for a moment, then jumped back in with a cautious tone. "America, you can tell us anything, we won't judge or betray you. Now, tell me. Did something else happen with Maxon?"

America stuttered nervously and bit her lip. "Do you two promise not to tell anyone?"

"As long as you aren't planning to kill anyone, then yes." She could hear the trust and kindness in Celeste's tone.

"I…" she began nervously, "I don't know. You saw Maxon pull me outside, Celeste. Well, he led me around the corner and just started kissing me. I don't even know what happened, but I finally came to my senses and told him to back off. He wants to make things work with me."

Celeste's mouth popped open in surprise and Nicoletta let out a strangled cry of disbelief.

"He wants to make things work? He's a little late then," the Italian Princess spat. "The time for that was two years ago, before he had married Kriss. The nerve of that man."

"What did you say, America?"

"I told him that it wouldn't work, that he had chosen Kriss and that it's his responsibility to remain loyal to her."

They both nodded in approval. Celeste broached the next topic carefully. "Girls, what do we do about Maxon?"

"What do you mean?" Nicoletta was visibly upset by her question. "America cuts all romantic ties and we remind him of his duty to his country. What else is there to do?"

"I just mean that what if Maxon really wants to rekindle things with America?"

"And?" Nicoletta cut back in angrily. "That shouldn't make a difference. They can't be together and that's that."

"Well, you can't just say that and expect everything to work out perfectly. The way I see it, he's going to keep trying. And, knowing America, it's just going to confuse her."

"Rude. I'm right here, guys. I think I have enough self-control, thank you."

Celeste waved her comment aside. "Sorry, darling. It's the truth, feelings tend to confuse you. That's not an issue, it just means that I think we should talk to Maxon. Make him really see what he's throwing away by trying to pursue her and how it could hurt America."

"Is there anything other than Kriss and public opinion? It doesn't seem like he really cares about either." Nicoletta added skeptically.

"He'll have to learn to care. I can't be friends with someone who is letting their feelings get in the way of everyone's happiness. I don't want to be involved in something that might destroy the monarchy."

Celeste raised a perfect, dark eyebrow.

America rolled her eyes and smiled. "It was different under Clarkson. I was destroying it for the good of the world."

They all burst into laughter. "A world without King Clarkson is definitely worth collapsing the Illéan monarchy."

Celeste grabbed their hands meaningfully and spoke with as much sincerity as possible while stifling her giggles. "And you, my friends, are worth getting arrested for assaulting the king of Illéa."

* * *

A couple of hours after Celeste and Nicoletta had departed for their rooms, late into the night, America found herself wandering around the garden.

A branch snapped.

She whipped around and searched wildly for anything that might have broken the small stick. It certainly hadn't been her.

Her anxious gaze fell two well dressed men. Realizing that they were likely political allies of the king, America relaxed slightly.

They stood relatively nearby, so America dipped into a shallow curtsy. They both bowed and approached her slowly. Shadows and darkness obscured their faces from her piercing gaze.

"What are you doing out here at night, My Lady?

"I'm only clearing my mind, is there a reason you two are out as well?"

The shorter of the two gave her a small smile. "Oh, we're just taking a look at all the palace has to offer."

The other man shifted slightly. His eyes kept darting around, as if he was looking for something.

"I see," she said, trying to keep the conversation pleasant. "Well, the gardens are a lovely place, especially when you want to think. I hope you'll make good use of them."

"We will," the shorter man said. Ignoring the natural end of the conversation, he pressed on. "Do you often come out with a friend or use the space for business negotiations?"

Her eyes fluttered in confusion. "Not really, I prefer to be alone."

"You do, do you? Are you all alone tonight too?"

She gave a hesitant nod.

He clicked his tongue as if he was disappointed. "That simply won't do. Let me and my friend escort you through the gardens. We would hate for you to be in any danger."

Something about this man unsettled America. She tried to come up with an excuse to escape the two, but could not come up with anything convincing.

"I'm rather cold, I think I'll just go inside."

"No need, My Lady. My friend and I can keep you warm while we take a walk."

"I'd really rather not, thank you."

"Don't be ridiculous, there's no need to cut a perfectly good night short."

"I think it has been far too long, thank you. I must get back to sleep so that I can be rested for the ball. Goodnight."

"Now, sugar—"

"That's enough, gentlemen."

All three shadowy figures turned abruptly to face the silhouetted king.

"The lady asked to be left alone and if you know what's good for you, you'll do just that."

The taller of the two men finally spoke up, bowing his head as he did. "Our apologies, your Majesty. Your ladyship. It won't happen again."

Maxon took hold of America's hand and led her quickly from the garden. As they passed through the doors into the palace, he paused for a moment to whisper something to the nearest guard.

The guard gave a sharp nod and signaled for one of the guards standing guard in the hall to join him. The second one by the door changed position so that he could guard the door on his own.

Maxon brought America back to her room once he saw the guards take off into the gardens.

He slammed the door behind them and began pacing wildly in her room.

America sat gingerly at the vanity bench and waiting for him to vent his frustrations.

"America, you little fool," he exclaimed, punctuating his sentence by throwing his hands up.

"What did I do?" She glared venomously at him and dared him to insult her.

"You were practically asking to get raped."

"I was asking to get raped? So I'm completely at fault for getting invaded? You're absolutely ridiculous. I didn't want it, that's why it's called rape. Are you seriously victim blaming?"

"No, I just… you don't get it, America. Things could have gone terribly wrong if I hadn't shown up."

"Oh really? I had no idea," she replied, laying on the sarcasm.

"I'm serious, this is no joke. You don't know the vile, repulsive things they were thinking."

Maxon tightened his fists, pushing his nails further into his skin. The muscles in his jaw flexed.

Heedless of his burning rage, she continued. "I'm sure I could guess, it's not like they wanted to ask me to have tea with them."

"America," he warned.

"What, Maxon? I know what they wanted, I'm not a fool. I would have found a way to get away, the guards were near enough. And stop looking at me like that, none of this is my fault and I don't need your stupid blame."

"If you had just stayed in your room—"

"If they just hadn't decided to rape someone, no one would have ever been threatened. This isn't my fault and I am disgusted that you would suggest it is."

Maxon signed heavily and let the anger rush out of him. "I'm not— that is, I don't blame you. I just can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you or… touching you." He collapsed onto the bench beside her and let his head hang.

"I know, Maxon. "It's hard to let go. Even then, you don't want to let anything happen to me. I get it, but you have to."

She saw a teardrop fall into his lap. "How can I let you go, America? It's killing me. Why is it so difficult?" His voice came out quiet and thick, betraying the heavy emotions he felt crushing his chest.

She sighed and put an arm around him, pulling him into a hug. "I don't know, Maxon. I really don't. But I know you can do it, it'll just take some time."

They stayed like that for a long time, just enjoying each other's presence and the friendship that bound them.

It was Maxon who broke the comfortable silence. "I should get back to my room."

He wiped his eyes and regained his composure. America nodded slightly and gave him a small smile. She tried to convey in the small gesture that it would all be okay, but her assurance faltered in the face of his tortured being.

"Goodnight, Maxon. You should get your beauty sleep."

Maxon let out a sad chuckle and ran a hand through his hair. "Now when have I ever been able to sleep?" He dropped a small kiss on the top of her head and walked to the door. He paused in the doorway for a moment, hesitating on what to do. Finally, he spoke. "Goodnight, Ames."

He disappeared from the doorway and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Another knock sounded in her room as daylight approached.

America groaned lightly. Would she ever get more than an hour of peace at a time?

She dragged herself out of her warm, soft, comfortable, plush, appealing…

America shook her head to clear out the thoughts of sleep and get back some clarity. Stumbling over to the door, she cursed whoever had decided to disturb her at such an early hour. They certainly didn't deserve any efforts on her part and were about to be sorely mistaken if they thought she would get dressed and made up just for them.

She opened the door with a harsh bang and irritated expression. "What," she asked, tersely.

Connor stood abashedly in front of her, a few stray locks falling into his eyes. "Hey, sorry to wake you."

Suddenly America wished she had taken the time to pull herself together and desperately tried to smooth her hair back into place. "It's fine, would you like to come in?"

He nervously bit his lip and fiddled with his sleeve. America couldn't help how his presence and nervous habits suddenly made her feel very alive. "No, I didn't mean to deprive you of sleep, I just wanted to see if you were awake. Don't worry about it, it's nothing. You should get some more sleep, I'm sorry," he said.

His rambling only added to how cute he was standing in the hallway, apologizing for cutting her sleep short. Her maid would have come in a few minutes anyway, she reasoned internally. It wasn't that big of a deal. How could she turn someone so achingly cute away?

She couldn't, America finally decided. She smiled at him and pulled her door open wider. "Come on in."

America settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace in her room that had been extinguished a few hours before. Connor pointed at the fireplace and raised his eyebrows, silently asking if he could rekindle the flame. America gave a small nod of consent and watched as the fire grew and gave off increasing light and warmth.

Connor sat down beside her, turning his body to face her once he was satisfied with his work."

"Hey."

"Hi," she said, giggling. "Any reason you decided to come visit?"

He gave her a lazy smile a draped an arm over her shoulders. "Not really, I just missed you."

She scrunched her nose at him but couldn't help her bright smile. "Well, you're here now. What do you want to do?"

"Talk?" He shot her a cheeky smile.

America pretended to pout. "But you're so boring," she whined playfully.

Suddenly, America was in his lap, his arms around her waist.

Connor gently pressed his lips to hers, waiting for her to return the gesture. She did, a thrill shooting through her with his kiss. She swept her tongue over his lips, taking initiative to deepen the kiss. Connor savored the feel of her body crushed against him and her hands combing through his hair as his hands gently stroked her sides. America let out a tiny whimper of pleasure, suddenly feeling that her bare nightgown was both a terrible and wonderful thing to wear during their embrace.

The two slowly broke apart and slowed their breathing. America shifted from Connor's lap to his side, curling into him. He kept an arm around her, warming her in the chilly autumn night.

"Interesting enough for you?"

America laughed softly and kissed his cheek. "Definitely, although I lied earlier. You are always fascinating."

His arm squeezed her slightly. "Thanks, Ames."

"No problem, but don't go around kissing everyone so that they'll find you interesting."

He chuckled and said, "Alright, but only if you keep reminding me that I'm not as boring as the other politicians I have to talk to."

America smiled widely. "Deal. Are they really so dreadfully boring?"

His eyes opened with exaggerated terror. "The worst. Talking to them makes me question my own sanity. Solitary confinement is an improvement from a conversation with them."

"Aren't any of them your friends?"

"Oh, they're all my friends. Not that I trust or like any of them. In my business, you can't afford to cut ties just because they're boring, though I don't think you can in any other industry. I suppose I am being a little rude, not everyone is that bad. There's this one guy, Isaiah Lee, that's my best friend in the political field. I guess he could be considered my best friend in every way, but don't let him know that. I'd never hear the end of it."

"What's he like?" Her head tilted slightly with curiosity and her eyes sparkled in wonder."

"He's a great guy, one of the funniest people I know and he's always willing to help out. If you're not put off by his slightly inflated ego, he's great company. He attracts people like honey attracts flies, I envy that talent."

She smiled at him, trying to ease his worries. "You're special in your own way and I find you attractive." She blushed furiously when she realized the implication of her words. "Not— I mean not like… what I meant to say is that you're great with people too."

She felt his chest rumbling with laughter and colored even more, if possible. "Thank you, Ames. I appreciate it."

The conversation lapses into a comfortable silence for a moment. America tried her best to force her blush into retreating, though she didn't have the best of luck.

"How are you dealing with King Maxon?" His question broke the silence and startled America from her inner thoughts. "That is, how are you feeling about him and the Selection? I know he's been a little… possessive since I've been talking with you. Does it bother you?"

She shrugged her shoulders as best she could. "I'm just kind of tired of him. He thinks that you're the devil itself and that I'm a fool. I don't think he really has anything against us, he's just having trouble letting go of me." She paused for a moment, pondering what was too much to tell Connor.

"Can I tell you something?" He nodded and watched her attentively, waiting for whatever she wanted to say. "He proposed to me. We were going to get married. Maxon broke it off the next day when…" Her throat closed up as she tried to talk about Aspen in the hallway. It frustrated her that she couldn't say it without hesitation or anxiety.

Connor squeezed her shoulder in support, smiling kindly at her. After a deep breath, she fought her way through the rest of the sentence. A sentence that could get her killed. "He found me in the hall, my hand on a guard's chest." She waited for Connor to gasp or berate her, but he stayed silent and encouraged her to continue. "He rejected me immediately, I never got to explain. The guard was my ex-boyfriend, Maxon only found out at that moment. Before that, he had stationed Aspen outside my door to protect me. I understand why he was mad and why he would assume we had been dating behind his back. Actually, I had a little in the beginning of the Selection. I didn't enroll to marry Maxon, I did it because Aspen broke up with me after he got me to submit my name. I was still trying to get over him when he suddenly showed up. We kissed in the beginning, but by the end, we had broken it off and I was only dating Maxon. I was only explaining to Aspen that I hadn't slept with Maxon, he had only stayed in my room the night before. He didn't believe me at first, I was trying to get it through to him. Maxon walked in, saw that I was close to him, and flipped out. I know I had been cheating before, but I never got to tell him how I stopped. And really, he had been doing much worse. While telling me he loved me, he was kissing Kriss. I was long done with Aspen at that point. And then he just turned around and married her. I'm not really mad about that, she's a better queen than I would have been, but Maxon was hypocritical and judgmental. That hurt. I don't know why I'm ranting, I just wanted to tell you about our relationship. In the end, though, I think Kriss makes Maxon happier than I would have. His father would have given him hell for choosing me and I'm so temperamental." She turned her face to him and gave him a small smile. "You sure you want to deal with me?"

He smiled back. "Of course, I wouldn't want you any other way."

"And my whole thing with Maxon doesn't bother you?"

"Absolutely, but not in the way you're thinking. I'm not upset with you in the least. What makes me irritated is His Majesty's behavior. He shouldn't treat you like he does. He doesn't get to control you, especially after treating you so terribly at the end of Selection. I know how much it hurts to have the person you love betray you like that. And to ignore your attempts at explaining, choosing Kriss without talking to you, it's not right. You seeing Aspen doesn't justify it, you weren't trying to hurt him. Just remember, America, that you are your own person. You get to make your own choices. He doesn't get to tell you what to do. That doesn't mean you should ignore all advice offered to you, but don't let others control you. Conversely, you don't get to control other people. Their decisions are their own. If they decide to hurt you, it's not all your fault. This doesn't mean you might have had something to do with it, but you're an intelligent woman. You can figure it out yourself. I just want to remind you, you are your own amazing and unique individual."

"Thank you, Connor. I really appreciate you and everything you've done for me."

"It was no problem, Ames."

"That reminds me, I need a nickname for you."

He raised an eyebrow as his lips quirked up into a smirk. "Oh? What have you dubbed me?"

She tapped her chin, assuming a stereotypical thinking pose. "Conny Wonny," she suggested, laughing.

His face distorted in comical terror. "God no. You sound like an overbearing mother or a smothering girlfriend. And it's simply mortifying. Next."

"Hm… I take it you wouldn't be a fan of Schmoopsie Pie?"

"I would like to be able to talk to others and not die on the spot when you join the conversation."

"Now that I'm thinking, there's not much I can get from your name."

He nodded, trying to look sage. "It's not a very nicknameable name."

"How about I call you Stilettos? Considering our interaction on the staircase, of course."

He threw up his free hand as if he had just finished a job. "I love it, start calling me that immediately."

"Alright, Stilettos. I think it's a very apt name, I'm glad you agree."

They both laughed lightly and leaned into each other as the conversation ebbed away into another comforting silence.

"How close are you and your parents?"

Connor had asked another startling and seemingly random question.

"I'd say we're pretty close. I mean, my dad and I have always been close, I was his little girl. My mom and I fight more, but we still love each other." She looked at him, concern covering her features. "Why?"

"I don't know, I suppose I'm just curious what it's like. I mentioned earlier that I don't have many friends, I've never really talked about it before."

"About what, Connor?"

He smiled sadly but didn't meet her eyes. "My dad. He's not abusive, but we're just so distant. I don't think we've ever played together or had a real conversation about something outside politics."

"What about your mom?"

"My mom died when I was five."

At a loss of what to say, America simply pulled him closer in an attempt to give him some comfort.

He gave an awkward laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "My dad remarried maybe a year later and insists that we call her Mom even though I don't think I've ever had a conversation with just her. My whole family's like that, shut off from one another. My sister and I are the closest to each other and we haven't had a real talk since Mom died. She's just shut off all her emotions and I was left at sea without a lifeboat. Mom used to hold the family together excluding my dad, who liked to galavant around the town and ignore us. He's busy though, I get it. I just wish he had made an effort. I don't know, now I'm just dumping all my emotional trauma on you. Sorry."

"Don't be, you're not forcing anything on me. I don't mind listening to you at all, I just wish I could be more comforting."

"You're perfect. Just the same, I should be—"

"My Lady?"

"Right, I was going to say that I should be going." He stood and kissed her hand gently, lingering there for a moment more. "Goodbye, America." Somehow he caressed her name, turning it into something sensual and meaningful.

"Goodbye, Connor. I'll see you later."

He gave her a dorky little wave and exited the room.

"I'm sorry, My Lady. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's nothing, Jenny. And you can just call me America. What time is it?"

"Six o'clock. Breakfast will be served in an hour and a half."

"Alright, you pick out something and I'll put it on in a minute. I'm going to start getting ready."

* * *

 _Wednesday night to Thursday morning. The clock is ticking._


	7. Time is Running Out

_Another chapter. It took a while because I wanted it to be longer. And I'm kinda overloaded with work._

* * *

Lounging under a canopy, America observed the individuals playing croquet and the crowd hovering around them. Most had decided to stand close enough to observe gameplay and abandon the shade provided by the cream-colored tents.

Guests and servants buzzed around the king, each trying to schmooze or fulfill his needs.

America's lips quirked up in amusement. Maxon had always liked people, but he was not a fan of slimy politicians or the way they tried to trick him into doing their bidding.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

America turned to Connor and flashed him a smile. "I'm just thinking about how much His Majesty must love being coerced wherever he goes. I know that politics are exactly what I want to talk about while trying to celebrate my birthday."

"Such is the way life goes for a king," came his amused reply. Connor's arm was draped over her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. "It's necessary, though. He can't afford to make enemies just because he ignored someone at his birthday party. Not with how unstable Illéa is at the moment. You know, Ames, you're really not helping in that regard."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "What do you mean? I haven't done anything."

"No, but it's your existence. You've always pushed for a casteless society and equality. I agree with you, but it shook the foundation of Illéa. You empowered the lower castes and angered the upper ones, effectively turning the country on itself. Well, more than it already was. And now you've stepped back into royal life, even if it's just for a week. You have so much influence over the lower castes, they really look up to you. They've taken this as a symbol of how they can rise again. The upper castes feel accordingly threatened. If you hadn't come, though, there would be just as much controversy. Upper castes would have seen it in the smug light of victory, but lower castes would have been furious. And we'd still be in the same spot of unrest. The tensions are high and the chances of an uprising or vicious oppression are rising steadily. Of course, throw the withdrawal from New Asia and the change in leadership into the mix along with the lack of an heir and you've got yourself a government on the precipice of either falling spectacularly or changing the entire base of their society to survive. It's not your fault there is a lot of clashing between castes, but you are a sort of gasoline to the fire that is Illéan society."

"I-"

"Sh," Connor whispered, leaning down to ensure no one would catch what he had to say. "We've got some company. Let's talk about it later, the turmoil in Illéa is too controversial."

"America," Kriss squealed as she and her husband approached. "How are the refreshments? If I was going to trust anyone for a well-explored opinion on food, it would be you. So tell me, are they alright? Not too bad?"

Kriss was holding Maxon's arm, but their postures were stiff. And there was an infinitesimal gap between them that belied their marital bliss.

America's smile strained as she turned her attention to the royal couple. She could immediately tell that Maxon was having a very poor day. The dark crescents under his eyes were considerably more noticeable than the day before and his hair was mussed as if he had been running his hands through it all morning. While he had never been the tidiest, his suit definitely showed signs of wear and wrinkles that it didn't normally. And his eyes. His expression was one of peaceful contentment, but his eyes betrayed his misery. America could see the torment and heartbreak swirling in their dark depths.

Clearing her throat, America quickly turned her attention back to Kriss. "No, they are lovely. You've done a great job organizing all of the events this week."

"Oh, you're too kind, America. You're easy to please—just like always—but I can't keep everyone happy. Especially those with money. Their standards are just so much higher."

All four flinched.

Anyone's less than dazzling background was simply not discussed in such a formal setting, it was the height of poor manners.

In an attempt to sidestep the discomfort, Connor changed topics. "Your Majesties, have you ever been to the beach? I've gone a few times in Likely and once here, but they were dreadfully cold. I'd love any local intel you have on the best ones."

Maxon nodded and smiled. A frighteningly empty smile. "Yes, there is one in particular that I've always loved. It has the most beautiful views and jaw-dropping sunsets. It's not too far from the palace, although it would certainly have to be a day trip. Tramonto beach."

"Darling, you've never taken me there. But I know how busy you are, there never seems to be enough time for a day off. Why don't we go the next time you're free?"

"Yes, the next time I'm… free."

"It's always lovely to see you, America and Sir Connor. We must be going, good afternoon." The royal couple made their way back into the crowd, graciously greeting anyone in their path and weaving their way around.

"I've always wondered how Kriss would treat you after the Selection." Celeste's arm slipped around America's waist as she came out of hiding.

"She's always been civil."

"She may be civil, but she's definitely still a bitch. I'd like to recount the votes."

Conor smirked at the joke. "Welcome to Illéa, where monarchs reign supreme. Have you tried our strawberry tarts? America can vouch for me; they're delectable."

America leaned into the supportive arms a little more. It was nice to rest some of her weight and worry on her two friends. It seemed that ever since the end of the Selection, she had been forced to carry all of her struggles and pain on her own, shielding her vulnerability from the public. Even though a queen had been chosen, the camera crews never left her alone. The paparazzi stalked all of the popular Selected, waiting for a slip up so that they could be the first to extort the girl and sell the story.

"Strawberry tart, my ladies and lord? I know they aren't the most appropriate fare for croquet, but I pulled some strings with the chef."

The three turned and saw a maid holding a small plate with the aforementioned sweet. Her golden hair was swept up into a simple bun and her smile was absolutely blinding.

"Marlee," America cried out, breaking away from Celeste and Connor to launch herself into her friend's arms. "I've missed you so much."

Marlee awkwardly placed her tray down and embraced America trying to communicate her happiness silently. "Hey, America. It's been a minute."

America pulled back from the hug and glared sternly. "Don't you dare leave me again. You're going to hang out with us. I'm sure the kitchens can spare you for a minute. Or five million."

"Only if you introduce me to the man who had his arm around you. Tell me everything right now, I need to judge him harshly."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Marlee. My name is Sir Connor Wilkes of Likely. Or Stilettos, if you'd prefer it."

Marlee and Celeste both shot America perplexed glances before all four of them broke out into hysterical laughter.

America was the first to raise her eyes.

They locked directly on Maxon's. Her breath vanished and her lungs seemed to constrict. He was looking at her with dire longing and excruciating pain reflected in his eyes. His eyes drew her in and locked her in place, sending waves of anxiety and sadness rippling through her.

And without meaning to, they accused her of abandoning him.

Finally, America tore her gaze away and focused back on her now calm companions. She admired how they could all move on and ignore the past. She knew they all felt pulled in several directions. Marlee had lost her family and status for love; Celeste had always been pressured into the spotlight and drastic measures, but was following the path that made her happiest; and Connor was chasing the affection he had always wanted. And yet they all kept their heads high and their feet on the right path.

It seemed as though everyone around her was pulling on one arm while Maxon stubbornly hung on, clinging to her other limp arm and urging her to discard the life she had made for herself. She couldn't just cut his influence at the root, it was too deep. She had loved him with everything she had. Could her love run out and allow her to get over him? Maybe she had a chance to find something with someone else. Connor was more than just a handsome face to her… But maybe Maxon was the one. Would anyone be able to measure up to him? He had been her everything, if only for a moment. Before he ripped himself away from her grasp and ran straight to another girl. But the way he was looking at her…

"Can we go inside? I'm rather uncomfortable out here in the heat."

* * *

Whispers echoed down the hall. The words unintelligible, the tones galled.

As America drew closer, covered by shadows and the darkness encroaching on 6:00 pm as the year drew closer and closer to a close, she could begin to make out the words bouncing around the nearly empty hallway.

"... Insane."

"Just… trust… I can't… help."

The voices were coming from next to the staircase in a small, hidden alcove.

If she could just manage to blend into the wall next to the entrance…

"Have you even thought about how this will affect them?"

"How could I not? Not everyone can be as self-centered as you, Celeste."

"My selfishness is nowhere near as impressive as your ignorance. It's like you don't even know what's happening around you. You think this is going to help? And you say I'm the sad one. You better cut this out, Kriss. I've met some of the most bratty people in this country, but none of them hold a candle to you and this idiotic plan."

"I just want love, Celeste. A husband who loves me."

"And you might have that if you hadn't married Maxon, or if you'd work through this with him instead then sabotaging someone who isn't at fault. Like an ass."

"You better shut it. Don't forget that I am your queen."

"What are you gonna do, tattle on me? Good luck with that. I am more influential in this world than you ever have been or will be."

The clicking of heels echoed down the hall.

* * *

Only five minutes after overhearing the conversation in the hallway, America arrived at her destination. She entered the dining hall once again, painfully aware of her tardiness and the judgemental eyes that took note of her late entrance.

No one said anything, however, when she sat down. The state guests continued discussing foreign and domestic affairs, and Maxon's personal guests had either joined the debates or started their own side conversations.

Despite being surrounded by friends, America felt utterly ignored throughout the lavish dinner. Everyone else was absorbed in their own conversations, too busy to incorporate her.

Her own attempts to join or contribute to a conversation went unheard, so America resigned herself to a silent meal.

Still picking at her food an hour later, America had yet to be allowed into a real conversation. No matter how she tried to rationalize it, America still felt a little abandoned.

People had things to talk about that didn't concern her. It was completely possible that no one had been able to hear her over the chatter. But why did it have to hurt so much?

Finally deciding to ignore her worries, America risked a glance at the royal couple.

They were conversing with a myriad of other royals, doing their best to juggle the different opinions and demands thrown at them. That was their job, after all. She shouldn't have worried that looking at them would spark an argument or give Maxon the wrong idea. What a ridiculous idea. They were too busy to notice her hesitant gaze.

Connor's hand slipped into her lap and encircled hers.

There was someone who cared for her. Someone there for her.

She squeezed Connor's hand and smiled at him.

"Hey"

"I noticed you looked a little lonely. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just didn't know who to talk to."

"Don't worry, I'm here. Your knight in shining stilettos."

America laughed. A little too loudly. Several people shot her displeased glares.

"I hate that every time I laugh people look at me. Can't a girl laugh in peace?"

"Never. They all despise this dinner and therefore you should be miserable too. No fun. Fun is for when you're in private." He winked at her and pretended to be stoic.

"Then you must get in a lot of trouble. For the son of a governor, you sure do make a lot of jokes."

"Far too many. I've been blacklisted from every formal event. I've been crashing this party for the last several days. Thankfully the guards don't care about me."

They both laughed at his joke, again earning some unhappy stares.

"Don't worry, I know some of them. I can pull some strings."

"Oh? And could you pull said strings if I maybe broke into the kitchen and stole some desserts?"

America pretended to think it over before responding, "That's a tough call. Dessert robbery is a capital offense. It would depend on what you steal. If you so much as touch the strawberry tarts I'll let them throw you in jail. Now if you take the banana sundaes, I think I could get you out. Unless it's Carter who catches you."

"Hm. What do you think I should steal then? What will hurt my case the least?"

"Truffles. Chocolate truffles are highly prized, but if you get there before too many have been eaten and you don't take too many, the guards will be more forgiving. People don't get too possessive over those until the supply starts to get low."

"Duly noted. Thank you, my Lady. I'll make sure to put this knowledge to good use tonight. And tomorrow night. And maybe Saturday morning before we depart."

"Speaking of leaving this place, what do you plan to do after this week?"

"I have another movie to film, actually. The studio is here in Angeles. It's a couple of hours from the palace. Are you planning anything?"

"No, I'd probably just go back to Carolina and continue teaching music."

"Well, if you can spare a little more time off from your job, you could join me during the filming for a while. I won't have much free time outside of the lot, but you could watch the movie get made and we could hang out in between takes. Don't feel like you have to. It's just an offer."

"It sounds fun. Do you think they'd let me on the property?"

"Of course. They'd never refuse me a guest. Everyone's scared I might get difficult. Rachel, my sister, is a bit notorious for diva behavior. People fear that it might run in the family."

"Well, I guess I'll have to find out just how annoying you can be if I'm gonna spend more time with you."

"I promise I'll be on my absolute worst behavior."

* * *

Maxon wandered the halls aimlessly. The only people around were the palace guards assigned to protect the palace.

He needed to think. He had to find a way to get past this. He had to let her go.

He had to let go of his northern star. The one who would always lead him home. What would he do without her? He was lost, trudging through the finery and obligation that bound him to Kriss.

Back in the Selection, he thought it would be America by his side. Without a doubt, he knew he loved her. His constant denial did nothing to convince himself. He'd never dreamed that he could really push her away, pick his second-best choice—someone else's first.

Kriss was amazing, but he didn't love her. He doubted he could love anyone but America. Everything about her drew him in.

What was he supposed to do without her?

A voice drifted down the hall. A melodic little tune, nothing more than a measure or two on repeat.

It was enchanting. It called to him. He had to find it.

* * *

He stumbled through the garden doors.

He half expected to find her sitting on their bench, pulling him in with her siren call.

It was disorienting to find her sitting just across the path from their bench.

She fell silent when the doors burst open, her eyes wide with surprise.

"I heard you singing."

"I'm sorry." She ducked her eyes. "I didn't realize I was being so loud."

"No, it's fine. It was lovely. And I wanted to find you."

"You shouldn't look for me."

"Probably not," he muttered, smiling sadly. "But I'm afraid I can't help myself. Mind if I join you?"

America stayed rooted to the bench. Although she hadn't consented, she didn't rebuff him. Maxon sat beside her.

"It's a beautiful evening."

"I'd bet it's closer to morning than evening." America gestured to the eastern horizon. The beginnings of daylight were lighting up the sky.

"Have you been enjoying the festivities?"

She shrugged and sighed, letting herself fall into a slouch. "I don't know. It's been interesting."

"I'm sorry for my behavior, America. I didn't mean to get so possessive. I guess it's the King Clarkson in me."

America brought her hand over his on the bench. "No, it's not. We can't control how we feel. With all of the feelings you bottle up, your composure is bound to slip. Clarkson was mean because he wanted to be. Your outbursts are usually because the stress takes its toll on you. That doesn't mean it's not an issue. Please don't hit Connor anymore."

"I won't. I'm under control. And thanks, Ames. You seem to always know what to say when I'm in a crisis."

He wrapped his arm around her and briefly squeezed her to him.

She scoffed loudly. "Uh huh. That's why I called for the Caste removal on live TV when Clarkson was still King."

"Well, I wasn't having a crisis until after you said that."

They couldn't help laughing.

His arm was still around her. The familiarity and warmth of the almost-embrace lulled America into a sense of security and emboldened her enough to ask what had been weighing on her mind.

"Did you ever love me during the Selection?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"I just wonder. During the Selection, you could be so caring that it was almost loving. And I guess I've been curious for a while. But then you were willing to let me go. Did you ever love me? Or do you just want what you can't have?"

"Of course I loved you, America. I still do, God be damned. I know I need to let you go. I know we can't be together. But I just can't get myself to move on."

"When did you realize that you loved me?"

"I don't think I can really pinpoint it. I was infatuated with you as soon as I saw you, but I'm not sure when that transitioned into actual love. I just… knew after a while."

"How do you know it was love, not just desire or a need to have everything?"

"I know the difference because I had liked you first. Only after did I come to love you. And you know it's not just about sampling everything at the buffet. I simply fell for you."

Giddiness and a crushing weight warred inside America.

"Everything just feels so twisted. Did I ever love Aspen as more than a brother? Was my love for you real? It felt real, but was it truly? And what do I feel for… I'm just lost."

"I can't answer those questions for you, but I hope you know I love you as a friend too. Romantic feelings aside, you're still my best friend."

"Even after we stopped talking?"

"Eh, so we were a little distanced for a minute. I still trust you more than anyone else."

"More like years. And I don't think you should; we all know what happens when you trust me."

"The presentation was… a misstep. And then the Aspen issue was really my fault, not yours. Besides, you've always kept the secret about my back. The same can't be said for…"

"Maxon? What happened? Did the doctor tell your mom?"

"No, she found out through Kriss' drunk uncle. Who heard it from Kriss." It was a struggle to keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice

"I'm sorry, Maxon."

"I just couldn't believe it. She betrayed me. How am I supposed to trust her with state matters, let alone my personal baggage?"

"To be fair, you wouldn't be able to trust me with government stuff either. The presentation."

"But you learned from that. And you never told anyone about my scars."

"Maybe she'll learn from her slip up too."

Maxon grumbled a bit and the two fell into silence again.

"Do you think we would have made it? As a married couple? Our fights did get vicious."

America laughed and let her head fall onto Maxon's shoulder.

"Yes, but it would have been quite a struggle. And the poor staff. They'd have to clean up so many broken vases and glasses."

"Hm. I like to think I'd have broken more plates than glasses."

"I'm definitely partial to vases. I'd break countless masterpieces."

The two watched the sunrise silently for a moment before America spoke up again.

"Maxon? Be careful about Kriss. I heard something weird in the hallway earlier, and I'm a little worried. Just make sure she doesn't do anything stupid, okay?"

His brow furrowed, but Maxon refused to start a fight over her cryptic message. "Alright, noted. Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem. I should go get changed. My maid will have a panic attack when she finds out I haven't slept."

"It's alright, you can blame it on me."

Maxon regretfully released her and America slowly rose from the bench.

"I'll see you later, Maxon."

"Farewell, my dear."

She stuck her tongue out at his goodbye and slipped into the palace.

* * *

Maxon eventually followed her inside, returning to his room and dressing for the day.

Their last day together. Just 24 more hours and then she'd escape his grasp once more.

He knew she loved him. It was written in her eyes. She loved him. And he loved her. He couldn't let that go. There was hope.

He had to do the right thing. The position of king came with many obligations, and happiness was not one of them. So what was right?

He needed to do what was best for his kingdom. But was Kriss the best for Illéa? America was more passionate. America wanted to improve the country. Kriss was elegant. Kriss was well educated. Kriss appealed to the country. So did America. But he had married Kriss. That promise bound him with iron chains. The public would be outraged if he abandoned a Daughter of Illéa, even if it was for another. But the lower castes had always preferred America. And the upper castes had always preferred Kriss. Still, Kriss' fall from grace would not blow over smoothly. Would America's rise to power make it tolerable?

Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to get her to stay. Maybe he could find a way to divorce Kriss without an uprising. Without hurting her. And maybe pigs would sprout wings and fly.

They were lost. Hope was gone.


End file.
